OUR STORIES.

Timaru Herald, Volume CI, Issue 15539, 26 December 1914, Page 4

OUR STORIES.

#;.A NEW-SERIAL, j pIEteRRIAGEOFIJIIS. j iP;'i;..o3y EDGAR.PICKERING.) 'Author- of " The Sign of> Secrecy," 3 " A Remorseless' Accuser," ."The Silonco of Richard Manisty," ' " Righted at Last/'" "A: Witness from tho Grave*" • " Was.. She - Guilty," "Murder will Out ? " "Dick Bcresford's Wifo,":&c., &c. PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS— Iris Davenant: A high minded beautiful girl, who has given her wholo heart to Philip Armiger. Believing him dead, and to save her step- ' father's credit and her mothers fortune, she marries Captain Denis Fairfax. , ..Philip Armiger: An artist. An ... honourable, upright man. In love with Iris. Captain Denis Fairfax: A handsome, wealthy man. Saves Lorrimorc's j„, : Bank as the price of Iris's hand in ;• marriage; of a jealous, vindictive, disposition, relentless in anger. , Mr. Lorrimore: The head of Lorrimore, Floyd and Co.'s Bank. Tho stepfather oE Iris. 'Cicely Armitago: A very pretty girl, ,/.;< outwardly the friend of Iris. Loves Captain Fairfax. Is a subtle, de- ,'■;'■., ceitful schemer. Mrs. Lorrimore: Tho invalid mother of Iris. • , George Calvert: Tho model clerk who 1 1 ..stole the notes from- Lorrimore's Bank. Mrs. Gedge: A typical Londoa landlady; fond of gossip, with a weak- ,•:■ : ness for gin. ' CHAPTER IX. * A HEART OF STONE. ;„'.'"" Saved I" . •,;' Samuel Gurnoy had ejaculated , the ,Vord fervently half-a-dozen times, as u ho went through his methodical work i'one morning, and away in his library jtit Priorscroft Mr Lorrimore had unknowingly echoed his manager. v; Saved 1 Yes there was no doubt of '•that ; nor that the firm of Lorrimore, .Floyd, and Co. would be ablo to escape , the rocks that threatened to wreck its fortunes'. • It had been a quietly managed piece of business, this resuming of Lorrimore's Bank, and only three or four , people knew, or would over know, how near to ruin it has been. None certainly ever guessed tho price that had been paid for its preservation, nor the sacrifice niado to secure its safety. None except the quiet, self-possessed girl, whose coldheart neither hope nor fear could affect, who watched tho preparations ;heing made for her swiftly approaching marriage, and accepted the honest congratulations of her friends without jheeding them much. Denis Fairfax was a contant- visitor ,«t Priorscroft, and Iris submitted to him, obeying the slightest expression , s pf ,his will unquestionably. They 'walked and rode together, visited in company tho neighbouring houses, and in the eyes of tho world a handsomer or 'better matched couple were never seen. " Mrs Lorrimore regarded her future, non-in-law as ono to .whom she could confido Iris's happiness with absolute assurance, and tho load of debts and difficulties being lifted from him, Mr .Xorrimoro rogainod his accustomed placidity of manner. It was, tho last day of Fairfax's ) .YJsit. He and Iris would not see each other again until the wedding morning, and as he lay back in a lounging chair that was beneath the shadow of . ono of tho hugo elms which bordered l<ihe lawn, a look of something very •like annoyanco was in his eyes, as their ,(?azd rested on hers. Sho was standing a few paces from him, and neither had spqkcn for a few moments. "Is it always to be like this, Iris-?" ho began, breaking the silence abruptly. "Is it that you have a heart of stone which no word of mine can touch ? Is it because you doubt my love for you, that sineo you acoo'pted mo as your husband not a syllable of response has passed your ('llpS?" "Have I ever hinted that I doubt you?" she answered. "Is it just to complain that I do not pretend to love yon. Yoti knew I. did not when you asked mo to be your wife. Would you think better of me if I wero to pretend? I ha\ r o no love in my heart—you are quite right." "AVhich will come' when someone luckier than I crosses your path," he | said irritably, and he got up from the lounge, coming towards her. "I don't think you meant to say that Denis," sho replied. v 'lt isn't worthy of you. You were angry with mo perhaps, but it is better that we quite understand" each other. There's time yet to draw back—to break olf our engagement." "Do yo\i wish it?" he demanded fioreely. "I havo v not said so," she answered. '"I was thinking of you, not of myself, |irhen I spoke." "Will nothing win a word—a look teven —of love from you Iris?" he said. "We aro to bo made man and wife in one. s,hort week from to-day, to be together for tho rest of our lives, and yet as far apart as if we were strangers. Not a very pleasant thing to look forward to." "Haven't we been good friends?" implied Iris. "Aren't we tho best of friends now? And you're quite contented in knowing I shall be your wife Sn a week's time. I dare say wo shall neither of us regret our marriage—we shall go through liio as other people ~go, and grow old together, liking one 'another as the years pass more perhaps than wo do now," "You aro the most matter-of-faet girl I ever know," he exclaimed, half amused ab her littlo speech. "Liking! I'm not satisfied with that—l want your love, Iris." "Will you never believe me?" she answered. "I'd lovo you if I could, but it's only regard—liking, as I said just now, that I feel towards you, Denis. There's nothing I would'nt do to please you, but you aro asking nie for something I can't give." He laid his hands' on her shoulders, looking down into her calm grey eyes. "Tell me this, Irjs," he said, "is there somebody that you do love? Somebody whom you'd rather have for a husband than Denis Fairfax? Tell mo now" before it is too late—before the time comes when it will be a crime for you to love that unknown rival of mine. I'll believe you, only for God's sake don't let us make a mistake that can't bo_ remedied. I wouldn't trust myself if I ever found out that you word deceiving me." "If it were as you say," she replied, "I should never have accepted your offer. You said you'd believe mo, and I'm tolling you the truth. Tho only love I have is for my mother-—-that's a different love from what you mean. There's not evon a . thought in my heart for any living man—[there's no one whom I ever shall love. That may sound a strange thing to say, perhaps, but it is to try and make you .understand how baseless your suspicion is of me." There was an accent of scorn in her concluding words, and ho moved his hands, turning away. "I'm glad we've had this talk," ho said, keeping his face averted from her, "I've been wanting it,. I don't

know that I've been suspicious of you, Iris, only sometimes I wasn't certain that you were dealing fairly by me. We'll never mention the subject again, and until the love of a wife for her husband comes, I'll be content with knowing that you don't quite hate me." "Is it fair to say that?" she answered. '"Haven't. I told you that I like you —that I shall always esteem and regard you. No one could be kinder than you are to me. I'm. not asking for anything more except for your trust iu my words." "Forgive mo if I have said anything to hurt your feelings, Iris," he replied, turning swiftly' and encircling her waist with his arm. "It is beeauso I lovo you so passionately,, so madly, that I said what I did., I do .trust you—l do believe in your absolute truth and honour. Does this satisfy you?" and he kissed her tenderly, noticing that her lips were cold as marble. CHAPTER X. HUSBAND AND WIFE. Six months had passed since the morning when Iris Davenant and Denis Fairfax had passed out from the flower bedecked church of Priorscroft, joined together by the holiest vows that a man or woman can utter. " Till death us do part." Tho words had struck like a knell upon her ear as Iris heard them, and all the pomp and beauty around her seemed but a mockery of joy and gladness. Another life was opeuing to her full of new cares and duties, a . life of wealth and luxury, different in every way from the life she had lived, and she must fling away the memories of tho days that were gone. It was another Iris from tho Iris of yester- j day—a woman supremely beautif id j and calm, who, leaning on her husband's arm, passed down the aisle from from the altar amid tho sounds of a' triumphal nfarch, and the smiles of friends; who drove from the home which had such sweet and bitter memories that her eyes could not behold it, so filled were they with tears; who lingered but for a moment to pluck from beside the porch of the house a spray of ivy, worth a thousand times more to her than the loveliest flowers could ever be, and so she had gpne out to that new life, and so the chapter closed. Captain Fairfax and his wife had returned threo months ago from Italy, where their honeymoon was spent, and were living in a house which he had recently purchased in Park-lane, from a window of which he was looking down at the busy traffic. Iris had not eomo from her dressing-room yet, nor had ho waited for her, evidenced by tho table whore Captain Fairfax's breakfast remained almost untasted, but ho had emptied a pint bottle of champagne with- a relish, and having lighted a cigar stood considering as to tho best way of getting through the day. He and Iris wero to start upon a round of visits shortly, and he was looking forward to doing so with an eagerness ho had never experienced before. London bored him he declared ; everything was a nuisance. Horses that ought to have won, did not—a yearling he had bought had turned out badly—it was settling day to-morrow, and although the matter of a thousand, or two even, was nothing, Captain Fairfax was naturally annoyed at losing his money. Business had kept him in town when everybody else had gono, and under these circumstances Captain Denis Fairfax was in a bad temper. Not .that this was an unusual thing for him, for latterly, he had been morose and taciturn towards his wife and household, whilst his acquaintances marked a cynical irritable manner in him which had taken the place of Iris former easy going bon-

homie, and betrayed a cruelty inherent in his disposition, that could be as remorseless and bitter as death, once it was aroused, and in Denis Fairfax's eyes at that moment there glittered an evil look. j It would have been wronging him | to say that love for his wife had gone, j but he was wearied of her coldness towards him. He was proud of her j beauty, and in knowing that Iris Fairfax was one of tho handsomest women in London, jealous of any attention which might be paid her by others. But one-sided love, as he had often told Iris of late, was not a thing to last, and she was wearied also of her new. life, concealing the ennui and hopelessness of it by the semblance of a cheerfulness which did.not deceive him however. Presently Iris entered the room, and j Fairfax twisted round giving a glance of approval 'at her. She wore a wrap of clinging sheeny silk, and lace, that! became her lithe graceful figure to ' perfection, and there was something' queenly in her quiet movement towards him. He would have been strangely wanting in appreciation if he had not experienced a glow of gratification at possessing such a charming woman for a wife, but as he bent over to kiss her, something—he could not have given it a name — caused him to draw back. It was as though Iris had shrunk from his offered salute, and his manner changed. "What time did you get back?" he asked, resuming his gazo out of the window. "Quito early," she replied. "There were not so many at Lady Dunst'on-'s i as I expected to see. ' "Why didn't j you call for me?" ■ ?' '. J "I forgot I suppose," he answered', carelessly. "I met a man who had j just come back from Egypt. He kept me talking at the club, and the time went." A footman bringing fresh coffee and covered dishes interrupted the conversation, and for some moments it was not resumed. The mention of Egypt had stabbed Iris as though a dagger had pierced her heart,, and when she spoke again it was in a' hard dry tone, which caused Fairfax to give her a look of curiosity. "I think I should like to go down to Priorscroft this morning, Denis," she said, pushing back her plate, and taking up an unopened letter addressed "to her. "I should stay overnight." j "What is the wonderful attraction I at Priorscroft?" he asked. "You were there a fortnight ago. No, you can't go." ' ] It was the first time he had re-! fused her anything. The answer was | almost brutal in its curtness. Iris did not appear to heed it, but began reading her letter, a flush coming into her faco as she did so. "Do you believe in presentiments ?"- she asked. "Can't sav I do," ho replied. "Why?" "I had a presentiment that my mother was ill again—that's all," she i continued. "This is a letter from her; she is ill and she has been so much better lately. Denis, you must let me go to her." "And I tell you—no," he snarled. "If you think it better to please your mother than me yon'll go, bnt it-will be against my wishes." "I think it awfully cruel of you to put it like that," exclaimed Iris, a flash of indignation darting from her eyes. "I don't want to do anything you object to, but it is cruel for all that your not letting me go. It would only be until to-morrow." His thin lips ported in ' a sneering littlo smile. It gratified him to see somo emotion, some change in those statuesque features. She could feel pain at any rate, he muttered, as ho turned once more to tho widow, nodding to someone who was passing. "There's Cicely Armitago over the way," ho said, "walking alone. Shall she come in? .She'll come like a shot if I give her; 7 ,a'hint.-",: And without waiting for Iris to answer,'he beckoned to Cicely. CHAPTER XI. WATERING THE SEED. In a few moments Cicely Arniitage was in the room, and had kissed Iris half 'a dozen times and shaken hands with Fairfax twice, '• laughing and smiling as if such a thing as care or disappointment had never existed for her. "Now I call this real lucky," she exclaimed, "for I didn't-know you two had got home —I've only just arrived myself. Been here, there, and everywhere —Malta, Naples, Algiers, Gib—a rattling good place Gibraltar, my good people, let mo tell you, and if I haven't come back a married person, it hasn't been for want of being asked. I've had two distinct and elaborate offers of marriage, to say nothing of having left a lieutenant of artillery on the verge of despair," and she buret into a ringing peal of laughter, in ! which Fairfax joined, Iris's eyes lighting up with a smile.

"We've been back some time, Cicely," she said, "and are only waiting in town, so if you hadn't called, we might not have seen each other for weeks." .

"We're going to Saxonliursfc first," added Fairfax, "then on to Nortonplace. Perhaps we shall see something of you there ? You're rather thick with the Butler-Nortons, if I recollect rightly." "You don't catch me at Nortonplace," said Cicely, emphatically. "Dullness is not the word for it. No, I'm going down into Devonshire, so I doubt -whether you'll see me again this sid© of Clrristmas. But Ijni awfully pleased to see you both now —fancy Iris a staid old married woman," and she bestowed a calm survey on her old schoolfellow. "What heaps you an.<Ll have to talk ahout.''

Her high spirits were contagious, and as she chatted the grim look on Fairfax's face relaxed, whilst Iris joined in the conversation heartily. As Cicely exx>ressed herself, _ there was "heaps" to talk about, and for some time the old school-fellows monopolised the talk.

"I quite thought you would have com© to my wedding, Cicely," said Iris. "I was disappointed. You ought to have come." "I was in Marseilles the day your invitation reached rne," replied Cicely, "ifc was too late to accept then. Don't you imagine you were the only one disappointed, because I was awfully cut up. Denis —may I call him Denis, Iris?—thanks! —you see I'd known him ever so long, and as I tako the greatest possible interest in his welfare, I would have given worlds to have seen him led to the, sacrifice."

Sho spoke in a tone of badinage, but the look given her.'by Fairfax was one of sullen surprise, and she met it with a smile and a nod.

'■' What has put your good man out of temper, this morning?" she exclaimed, turning to Iris playfully. "Oh, but you are annoyed, * Deiiis—you ought to be the happiest man left in London."

Iris did not answer, neither did Fairfas, and Cicely gave a rippling little laugh.

"I'm going shopping," she went on, "and if you've nothing better to do, you might go with me, Iris." ' Iris agreed readily. Tho opportunity to escape from tho house, which, for all its pleasant situation and lavish display of wealth, was becoming the dreariest of homes to her, was very welcome. . "If you'll give me a moment," she answered, "I'll be reach- to go, Cicelv. We'll walk." "If you're ready in ten minutes," laughed Cicely, "you'll be one of tho most wonderful women I ever know," and Iris quitted the room. Left alone .with Fairfax Cicely re-

mained looking at him for some seconds, as if considering what she was about to say. She had lost the gaiety of manner which had been distinctly irksome to maintain, and her voice had sharpened. "You've had your way, Denis Pairfax." she began. "You've won your; prize. I hope you're satisfied, but I'm doubting it—it's always painful to be disillusionised." "I don't quite see what you're driving at," he replied, savagely. "Oh, but you do," she continued, "it's useless to pretend you don't. You're not a bit happy." "I'm as happy as I ever expect ;to bo," he retorted. "Nor is Iris," she went on, not heeding his remark. '•'That's not to be wondered at, perhaps—making believe is always hard work, and making believe that one loves somebody is about the hardest, I should say." "You're inferring that Iris docs so," he answered. "I can assure you it is nothing of the kind with her. She & not very demonstrative, that's all." .'" "Indeed," replied Cicely. "She was, demonstrative enough when she told mo about Philip Armiger." A whiteness suddenly gathered on Fairfax's face, and the thin lips were drawn together into a lino. "Never heard the name," he answered, carelessly, his companion marking tho effect of her words, and a flash of gratification shot out from her keen eyes. "It isn't likely you "woidd have heard it," she went on. "He's the man whom Iris was madly in love with—they were engaged to be married—you needn't look at me like that, Denis Fairfax. Philip Ariiiger is dead. It nearly broke Iris's heart when she heard of his death, and how you ever came to persuade her to marry you, I can't understand. Now. perhaps, you see why I pitied you!" "Iris was in love with this man — this Philip Armiger, you say," he repeated. "It's a very good thing he's dead—a good thing for him, and Iris, too; if it were otherwise- " "Hush 1" Cicely's finger was raised "warningly, for Iris had laid her hand on the door handle, and the next moment she was in the room dressed for walking. "We'll go now, Cicely," she said, not heeding her husband, and Cicely got up. "You're a dear for being so quickly ready," she answered laughingly, and holding out her hand to" Fairfax, who took it mechanically. Then he was alone. "Philip Armiger," he muttered. "I' understand now what Iris meant when she told me she had no love to give me-—all her love had been given to this man. Well it's a very, very fortunate thing that you are dead, Mr Philip Armiger!" and he turned away from the widow where he had watched" Cicely Arinitage and his wife pass down Park lane. (To be Continued.)